The forest air was damp, the moonlight faintly piercing through the canopy. The crunch of boots was the only sound—until Nova let out a dramatic sigh, as if he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life.
"Finally," he said, spreading his arms as the glowing window appeared in front of him. [Would you like to equip combat gear?]
He exhaled again, theatrically. "An effective way to travel."
Minos smirked from a few paces back. "Well, don't just stand there, bossman. Press the button."
Nova tapped the window, and in a ripple, his casual clothing shifted into sleek combat gear—black fabric from neck to boot, a faintly glowing crystal under the collarbone, lines of light-blue energy pulsing softly across the suit.
"Yoo," Minos said, strolling closer, "that looks sick on you, Nova."
Nova grinned, flicking some imaginary dust off his shoulder. "Please. Everything looks great on me."
He turned just slightly, enough to catch Jennie out of the corner of his eye. She stood there, now also clad in the same sleek black gear, the faint light tracing the contours of her frame.
Jennie's lips parted before she realized it, her voice soft. "It really… looks good. On you."
Nova gave her one of his easy smiles, casual but sincere. "You look great too, Jennie." Then he tilted his head, squinting thoughtfully. "But don't you think you should tie your hair?"
Jennie blinked, caught off guard. "I… I can. But why?"
Nova gestured, mimicking hair falling into his eyes. "Wouldn't it get in your face while fighting? Can't risk something like that in a life-or-death battle."
Jennie nodded quickly. "Y-yes. I usually tie it in a ponytail or bun."
"Then do it," Nova said matter-of-factly, arms crossed. "No point risking it."
Jennie's hands trembled slightly as she pulled her hair back, twisting it into a bun. The faint blue glow from her combat gear made her features look softer, her flushed cheeks half-hidden in shadow.
Nova's eyes lingered for just a second longer than usual. He nodded with approval. "Now you look even prettier."
Jennie froze. Her face burned red. She fidgeted with her fingers, voice so small it was almost a whisper. "Th-thanks…"
Nova stayed still, suddenly serious, eyes on her.
Jennie's heart thudded against her ribs. She swallowed. "Wh-what's wrong?"
Nova's voice was calm, almost solemn. "Is it just me… or do you hate me for some reason?"
Jennie's brain short-circuited. "W-what!?"
"You only answer me with short sentences," Nova explained with a shrug. "Most of the time you don't look me in the eyes. I dunno, feels like maybe you can't stand me."
Jennie's face went crimson, her whole body locking up. She pressed her hands near her chest, murmuring so quietly it was barely audible. "G-get a hint…"
Jennie's face was flushed red, "It is hard to explain." she answered her voice shaky.
Nova leaned closer, brow furrowed. "How exactly is this hard to explain?"
Jennie's pulse roared in her ears. Her thoughts blurred into a panicked swirl.
'He's too close. He's way too close. My heart's gonna explode.'
---
And just like that—
The whole scene flickered and shifted.
The cinema lights shine brightly.
Nova and Jennie's awkward interaction was now playing on the massive screen, high-definition, complete with dramatic lighting.
Minos leaned back in a recliner chair, 3D glasses on. A bucket of popcorn rested on his lap. To his right sat Miwa, happily munching from her own bucket. Zazm and Kiyomasa shared one too, sitting just a seat away.
Kiyomasa tilted his popcorn toward Zazm. "Wanna bet on a confession? I'm putting five hundred on it happening."
Zazm plucked a piece of popcorn, chewed slowly.
Minos smirked, eyes glued to the screen. "Nah. Five hundred says nothing happens. Dense idiot protagonists are undefeated."
Miwa giggled, shaking her head. "I'll bet Jennie survives this heart attack." She saluted her popcorn bucket. "It's a long shot, but my money's on her."
Kiyomasa glanced at Zazm. "What about you?"
Zazm looked at the screen, with his same emotionless gaze. Finally, he muttered: "That's a rock. Nothing will happen." his voice detached and cold.
Miwa clapped softly, eyes sparkling. "Such wise words."
Minos raised a brow. "I'm not Shakespeare. Translate, please."
Miwa leaned toward him, whispering. "He means the protagonist is as dense as a rock."
Kiyomasa snorted. "True. He can't take a hint if it smacked him in the face."
They all nodded solemnly, as if mourning Jennie's fate.
The cinema warped again—this time, the four of them sat on a massive tree branch directly above Nova and Jennie, still in reality.
Minos glanced around. "…Wait. Did you guys just teleported here for this?"
Miwa smirked. "I contacted you telepathically to ask for the situation. You gave us this juicy intel, so obviously, we had to come."
Kiyomasa nodded, completely serious. "You were so hyped up, we had no choice. Besides… this is worth it."
They all leaned forward, watching intently as the awkward romance continued below.
Jennie was on the verge of fainting, her heart thundering, while Nova just kept pressing, completely clueless.
Suddenly Nova glanced around. "…Wait. Where did Minos go?"
Jennie blinked too, realizing he wasn't beside them anymore.
A faint rustle came from above. Both of them tilted their heads up—
And there was Minos, perched on the branch. Alone.
He glanced sideways, expecting backup. But Zazm, Miwa, and Kiyomasa had already teleported away, leaving him stranded.
Minos clenched his fists, face twitching. 'They abandoned me… those bastards teleported away!'
Nova tilted his head. "What the hell are you doing up there?"
Minos coughed, then leapt down smoothly. "Heh—just checking my combat gear."
Nova raised an eyebrow. "On a damn tree?"
Minos nodded with utter seriousness. "Yes."
Jennie finally exhaled, placing her hands against her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.
Minos smirked inwardly, watching her steady herself.
'She would've definitely died if I didn't break the scene.'
---
The forest was quieter now, the wind brushing against the leaves as if trying not to disturb the moment. Kiyomasa leaned back on the branch, swinging his legs slowly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
"That was fun," he said, cheerful as always.
Miwa, perched beside him, nodded with a grin. "Yeah, definitely worth it." Then she turned her head, her eyes softening. "Thanks for teleporting us here, Zazm."
Zazm stood a little apart from them, hands hidden in the folds of his cloak, his mask lowered but his expression unchanged.
He gave her the faintest of nods, no more than the twitch of his chin. Then, without a word, he began to walk forward, his boots silent on the bark.
Zephyra, resting against his right shoulder, cracked one eye open, her gaze half-lidded and unreadable. "What?" Zazm asked flatly, noticing her staring.
Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
"Nothing."
"You were asleep," he said, tone as empty as the void.
She chuckled softly. "I had to wake up to enjoy the scene." Then she closed her eyes again, letting the rhythm of his steps rock her back to sleep.
The group continued in silence until Miwa's voice cut through it. "I think we're close." She floated upward, the faint psychic shimmer around her form catching the light, and landed smoothly on a thick branch. From there she waved them up. Zazm and Kiyomasa joined her, crouching in the foliage.
Through the leaves, the camp unfolded before them. Rows of tents clustered around crackling fires. Men and women sat on logs, laughing, eating, the smell of roasting meat drifting through the air. Sparks flickered upward into the night.
Miwa's eyes softened. "They… don't seem that different from us."
Kiyomasa leaned forward, studying the scene, his childish purity reflected in his eyes. "It's hard to believe the only difference between humans and remnants is some extra organ. And yet…" He sighed. "Their whole view of the world is so different."
Zazm's gaze never left the camp. For a long moment he said nothing. Then his voice broke the quiet.
"Miwa. Kiyo."
Both turned instantly, his tone anchoring them in place.
"Can you kill them?"
The question struck harder than they expected.
Miwa tilted her head, confused. "What? I mean… I can just lift every tree here with telekinesis, crush the whole camp if I wanted."
Kiyomasa nodded, though puzzled. "I could burn everything down in an instant."
Zazm finally looked at them. His face was calm, expressionless—but something hollow lurked behind his eyes.
"Not in theory. In reality. Can you kill a person?"
The silence that followed was heavy.
Kiyomasa shifted, giving a nervous chuckle. "As funny as it sounds… I think I'd be able to do it fairly easily."
Miwa's playful smile faded. Her gaze dropped.
"…I can also kill if needed."
Zazm's reply came low, deliberate.
"Killing isn't difficult. The blade cuts, the body falls. That part is simple. What comes after… is what breaks people."
Miwa and Kiyomasa both frowned, confusion in their eyes.
Zazm's voice sharpened.
"You look at someone and call them innocent. But war devours that word. In war, there are no innocents.
Every hand that feeds an enemy soldier, every voice that prays for your defeat, every child that grows under their banner—they all belong to the other side. If you hesitate to see that, you won't survive."
Kiyomasa's voice cracked. "…But if we kill them, what makes us any different from murderers?"
Zazm's eyes narrowed, cold as steel.
"Murder is taking a life to satisfy yourself. War is taking a life so the people behind you can keep breathing. The blood is the same—but the weight behind it isn't."
The words cut deep. Kiyomasa opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Miwa whispered, "So you're telling us… we can't avoid killing?"
"No," Zazm said. "I'm telling you that if you hesitate, you'll lose everything. War doesn't care about your reasons. Either you cut them down, or someone you love bleeds instead."
Kiyomasa swallowed, pale. "…So every life matters, but the choice is always between theirs or ours."
Zazm nodded slowly.
"You can have a thousand reasons to spare someone. But war needs only one reason for you to kill. And that reason… is survival."
The quiet grew suffocating.
Miwa's voice trembled. "Then… how does it feel? To kill someone?"
Zazm's eyes darkened, voice heavy as stone.
"The first time, you'll feel sick. You'll hear their voice in your sleep. You'll wonder if you could've spared them. That guilt won't leave."
Kiyomasa clenched his fists, face paling.
"The second time is worse. The blood stays on your hands no matter how much you wash."
Miwa lowered her gaze.
"But then comes the moment you feel nothing." Zazm's tone was flat, merciless.
Kiyomasa looked up, shaken. "…Nothing?"
Zazm nodded. "You stop thinking about who they were. Father, daughter, lover, friend—it no longer matters. They're just another body. You adapt. And when you adapt, you survive."
Kiyomasa whispered, horrified, "How can anyone get used to killing?"
"When you realize every step forward is paved in blood," Zazm replied, "you learn to stop looking down at the ground.You just keep walking."
He paused, then added, "Or you can refuse to move at all. Refuse to stain your hands."
Miwa looked up, hope flickering faintly. "And if we refuse?"
"Then maybe you'll find another path," Zazm said. "One that isn't written in corpses."
The spark lit brighter in their eyes. But his next words crushed it.
"But everything has a price. Stand still too long, and the people behind you will starve. They'll die waiting for you to choose."
The air froze.
Kiyomasa whispered bitterly, "So either we walk through blood… or watch the people we care about disappear."
Zazm nodded once.
Miwa's throat tightened. Her voice broke.
"…Zazm… how many people have you killed?"
Zazm was quiet for a long moment. His voice, when it came, was hollow. "I don't know."
Miwa blinked. "You don't… know?"
"Perhaps ten million. Twenty. A hundred million." His tone never shifted.
Both Miwa and Kiyomasa froze, cold seizing their spines.
Miwa gave a nervous laugh, voice cracking. "Looks like… you're being the same funny guy again."
Kiyomasa forced a smile. "Y-yeah… talking a lot too."
Zazm stood, dusting off his cloak. "Just remember what I told you."
Miwa rose to her feet, frowning, her voice trembling with stubborn resolve.
"We're not kids, Zazm. We chose this path ourselves."
Kiyomasa forced a smile, though his hands shook faintly. "And you'll always be there to lead us."
Zazm's gaze cut through them, unreadable and cold.
"And what if I'm not there for you?"
The words struck like a blade. Kiyomasa's smile broke instantly, his eyes hollowing. Miwa's lips quivered with anger, her throat tight.
"What are you even saying? Who would kill yo—"
"There are enough people to do that." Zazm's voice was final, merciless.
Miwa's hands trembled. "Why are you even talking like this? Why are you talking about dying?!"
"It's a possibility," Zazm replied, calm as if he were discussing the weather. He raised his hand, staring at it as though it belonged to someone else. "I exist beyond time and space. Past, present, future—they all exist for me at once."
Kiyomasa lunged forward, panic flashing in his youthful face. "Are you saying you've seen the future? That in the future… you die?!"
Miwa's voice cracked, almost begging. "Zazm—tell us that's not true—"
But Zazm shook his head slowly. "I haven't seen the future."
"You're lying," Miwa muttered, her voice breaking like shattered glass.
Zazm turned his eyes on her—empty, absolute. "Look me in the eyes and say I'm lying."
She froze. Her body locked up, throat refusing to move.
"There's a possibility I'll die," Zazm continued, his tone as cold as steel. "You. Me. All of us."
The silence pressed down on them like the weight of the night sky.
Kiyomasa's shoulders slumped, his hands trembling as if the truth itself had crushed him. Miwa clenched her fists so hard her nails pierced her palms, blood spotting faintly. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall.
And then Zazm's voice fell lower, darker—more personal.
"You two need to understand. I am not your shield. I am not your safety. I am the greatest threat in existence. As long as I breathe, I am the biggest sword hanging at your necks."
Miwa's breath caught. "…What are you saying?"
Zazm's voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
"I control space and time. An immense power… but with immense power comes fear. And because of that, even our own side wouldn't think twice about killing me."
The words froze Miwa and Kiyomasa where they stood.
Kiyomasa's face twisted in disbelief. "Why would they?!" His voice shook, louder than he intended. His hands curled into fists as if clinging to something slipping away. "You are training to fight for them—you've done nothing but protect everyone! Why would they even think of—"
"They would." Zazm's tone carried no hesitation, no emotion. Only certainty.
Miwa stepped forward, her chest tight. "You're saying that like it's already decided. But you'd be fighting for them, Zazm. For all of us. Why would they see you as anything but an ally?" Her eyes shone with anger and a fear she refused to show. "Why would they want to kill you?"
Zazm didn't flinch beneath their stares. His voice was calm, but every word carried the weight of inevitability.
"The enemy already sees me as a threat. That much is obvious. But it isn't just them. The moment our own side begins to think I'm not just a weapon for their cause, but a danger to their peace, they'll act."
He glanced between them, his gaze steady and unyielding.
"The moment they decide I could become a threat to everyone, a threat to the balance they cling to… they won't think twice. Not Neo. Not Asher. Even the people you think are so kind and wonderful."
The silence after that was unbearable.
Kiyomasa's chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing ragged. His lips trembled, his voice breaking as he spoke. "No… No, I don't believe that. Not Neo, not Asher—they're not like that. They wouldn't." He shook his head violently, like a child refusing to wake from a nightmare.
Miwa's nails dug into her palms, her teeth gritted as she blinked back the heat in her eyes.
"Zazm, you're wrong. You have to be wrong. People aren't that heartless. Not the ones who are supposed to be on our side."
Zazm finally looked at her, his eyes empty, heavy, unreadable. For a moment, Miwa felt like she wasn't looking at her brother-figure anymore, but at something far beyond her reach.
"You aren't understanding," he said quietly.
"The more power someone wields, the less human they become in the eyes of others. Fear doesn't need proof."
Kiyomasa's voice cracked. "But you're not a shadow, Zazm—you're… you're the one I look up to. You're the one I trust with my life. Don't talk like you're already—" He stopped, his throat closing as tears burned in his eyes.
Miwa's voice trembled with suppressed frustration. "You're telling us to be ready to lose you, to see you as some… some enemy if someone else decides it. Do you even hear yourself?"
For the briefest moment, something flickered in Zazm's gaze—a trace of sorrow—but it vanished just as quickly. He shook his head slowly.
"Don't worry about it. Not now. But in future choose yourself over me."
The finality in his tone crushed what little resistance they had left.
Miwa lowered her head, her lips trembling as she bit them hard to stop herself from crying. Kiyomasa's fists shook at his sides, powerless against the truth Zazm had left them with.
The silence after Zazm's words hung like a weight on the branches. Kiyomasa rose first, hands trembling as if he'd swallowed cold.
He tried to speak, tried to find something that would fix the fissure that had just opened in the air between them, but the sound died in his throat.
Instead he forced a breath and said, too small, "I'll… look around for a better place." He pushed himself up without meeting Zazm's eyes and moved off, each step from him a soft, reluctant retreat.
Miwa stayed longer. Her mouth opened as if to argue, then closed; the urgency in her face curdled into something raw and private. "…I'll help you," she said finally, voice fragile and not at all like the bright person she normally was.
She gave Zazm one last look—half-anger, half-pleading—then let Kiyomasa's way find hers and they jumped into the trees together, silhouettes dissolving into the dark. The forest swallowed the sound of their leaves.
Zazm did not move. He remained where he had been standing, hands buried in his cloak pockets, posture so still it could have been carved. He did not watch them go; he only watched the space they left behind, as if he were reading something in the absence of sound.
"Why did you do that?" came a voice from his shoulder—soft, amused, and sharp all at once.
Her long voilet hair slipped down her shoulders as she shifted, and with a graceful, almost lazy movement, she dropped from his shoulder and landed next to him. She leaned forward, arms folded behind her back, her violet eyes gleaming with something unspoken.
"You've been talking a lot recently," she added, tilting her head.
Zazm said nothing. He only began to walk forward—one slow, deliberate step.
But before his foot could fully meet the ground, the world spun. A pull, smooth and fluid, yanked him backward with a motion so seamless even he couldn't react in time. His vision tilted upward—and then stopped.
Sky above. And Zephyra's face blocking it.
His head rested on her lap, his body laid out without his consent. Zephyra leaned over him, her hair cascading like waterfalls around them, falling against his cloak, brushing across his face. Her legs were crossed, posture relaxed, but her eyes… her eyes burned straight into him.
They were not merely violet. They were whole galaxies—swirls of deep plum and indigo, flecks of silver light dotting the irises like distant suns. They looked like they could contain the entire universe in them. Those eyes were so unnaturally beautiful that one might actually get hypnotized.
His eyes, in contrast, were pits of obsidian. Not blackened with shadow, but emptied—so deep they swallowed the starlight in her irises and left nothing to return. They were not angry or kind. They contained nothing in them, the eyes were terrifying, abnormally dark to absorb all shreds of light that fell on them.
Her hands rose, cupping his face gently, forcing his gaze to remain locked with hers. "Why did you do that?" she asked again, her voice low, like a whisper only meant for him.
Zazm exhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "…Do what?"
Her lips curled softly, almost teasing, but her tone carried a weight. "Telling them you won't be there in the future."
"…Did I lie?" His voice was calm. Cold. A statement, not a question.
Zephyra's thumbs brushed idly against the sides of his face, her smile unchanging. "We all have to die, yes. Even the strongest bow down to death. But you didn't need to say it like that. You worried poor Kiyo and Miwa."
Zazm didn't reply. His eyes remained empty, his face unreadable.
Her smile softened. "All the things you said… they weren't really about yourself, were they? They were directed at them."
"It's not just me," Zazm said flatly. "If they grow strong enough, they'll become a threat to humanity. After the remnants are gone, they might try to kill the—"
Zephyra cut him off. "And they might not. How are you so sure?"
He fell silent. No rebuttal. Only the quiet void of his gaze.
She studied him carefully, then leaned back slightly. "You've already developed that," she said, her tone sharp. "After that, no one could touch you. But you're worried about them. So you're teaching them using yourself as an example."
Zazm's eyelids lowered slightly, but he said nothing.
Zephyra tilted her head back, looking at the endless stars above them. With a slow motion, she brushed her hair behind her shoulder. "You worry too much, Zazm."
He remained silent.
Her lips curved. "What's the worst that could happen? We all die? Then we die. I suppose death isn't such a terrible thing."
At last, Zazm's voice came, low and steady. "…And we can live."
She glanced down at him again. He hadn't moved, but something in his tone was heavier.
"Yes," she admitted, "but what's the point of living if it isn't peaceful?"
No answer. Instead, Zazm sat up smoothly, slipping from her lap as though the entire exchange had been a fleeting illusion. He adjusted his cloak, brushing the dust off with slow, deliberate motions. Then, finally, he spoke.
"I'll create it."
Zephyra blinked, caught off guard. "…What?"
"I'll create peaceful times," Zazm said, his tone still flat but carrying an unfamiliar undercurrent. His eyes rose to the stars, their reflection in them dull compared to hers. "Where everyone can live without fear. Without war. Where we don't have to wake every day wondering if tomorrow will kill us. Where we don't have to throw ourselves at the multiverse like sacrifices."
His words were not fiery. Not emotional. But their weight was absolute.
"No matter how long it takes," he finished.
For a moment, even Zephyra was stunned. Then her lips curled into a genuine smile.
Zazm finally turned, extending his hand forward. "So continue to stand alongside me."
His eyes, those void-black abysses, softened—just for a heartbeat. Barely perceptible. But enough.
It was enough to shock even Zephyra.
She stared at him in disbelief before her lips broke into laughter. Not mocking, not cruel. A soft, almost like a kid's laugh, filled with genuine innocence and happiness. Unexpected.
Zazm tilted his head slightly. "…What?"
"Nothing," she said, covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to contain herself. Her laughter spilled anyway, echoing lightly in the night. "I was just… thinking."
"Of what?" he asked.
Her smile deepened. "Of peaceful days."
_____________________________